


Letting Loose

by JANDS (RainbowTentacle_Sama), RainbowTentacle_Sama



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (Author takes super long to update sometimes), Anxiety, Aroused!Karkat (And possibly Gamzee too.), BDSM (In a way?), Cum Eating, Cum Play, Dub-Con if you squint because of Karkat being so embarrased, Emotional!Karkat, Gulity!Karkat, Headcannon: Lowbloods are hot and Highbloods are cold, Headcannon: Troll Submission Reflex, Hyperventilating, M/M, Massage, Merging/Flipping/Blurring Quadrants, Negative Views And Talk Of Oneself, On Hiatus, Pailing/Sex, Pale Relationship with tints of red, Panic Attack, Thats what I mean by BDSM, Under construction, being revised, mentions of terezi bashing, sober!Gamzee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowTentacle_Sama/pseuds/JANDS, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowTentacle_Sama/pseuds/RainbowTentacle_Sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Karkat finally learned to loosen up and relax.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>[Disclaimer: Homestuck does not belong to me. I only own the situations I put the characters in. Everything that belongs to Andrew Hussie belongs to him. I am humbled by his pure awesomeness.]</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Karkat: Deal With Your Over Protective Moirail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **IMPORTANT NOTICE!**  
>  I'm taking this story up for an old friend of mine (JANDS, AKA BleedingJoyAndSorrow).  
> I'll try to clean it up and post some more chapters, hopefully. I'm quiet fond of this one, so I hope to dig at it a bit more and build on it.  
> We apologize for the story most likely going to be open ended. Or maybe a cliff hanger? Leave it up to all of you guys' imagination?

**== > ** Karkat: Be An Uncomfortable DoucheBag

You've been doing that. That ridiculous voice in your head needs to shut the hell up before you stick one of your sickles up its non-existent nook.

However, that brings you back to your current predicament.

You were just lounging around in one of the various rooms of the meteor with Gamzee, your moirail. You were curled up on your side on the horn pile, reading a troll romance novel, one of your favorites, and Gamzee was being his usual dumb ass self, lazily stretched out on the floor, head propped up on a hand, and guzzling his self dubbed "wicked elixir".

It was nothing special; nothing out of the ordinary. But…well. It was just…your back. And neck. And shoulders. And, even your legs. They were all cramped up and sore.

You hadn’t been able to get any proper sleep since…well, long before the game started and you were all back on Alternia. It's not like standing up all the time, or hunching over the computer or a book, or even just curled up watching a movie helped with the soreness of your muscles. Neither did being so tensed up all the time, never letting your guard down around all these idiots surrounding you, including your crazy moirail.

You had been gently shifting around on the horn pile, trying to find some relief for your muscles, but any position you tried did not relieve the pained cramp of muscles.

You shifted and shifted, trying to focus on the novel and relax, but it just wasn’t working. You were so caught up in your predicament, that you hadn’t noticed when your moirail climbed into the horn pile and curled up next to you, face level with yours, or level with the book you were reading, that is.

Your ears twitch, and you can just feel his gaze burning through your book and onto your skull. The closeness of such a dangerous troll doesn't help with your attempt to relax your muscles, and as much as you pity the stupid clown, you really wish he would just fuck off at the moment.

You sigh and slowly lower the book. ”What do you want, imbecile?”

"Honk."

You huff in aggravation. ”Just leave me alone Gamzee, I don’t feel like dealing with your shit right now.”

"...."

There’s no response, so you look at your moirail. His eyes aren’t red, so, you guess you shouldn’t shoosh-pap him into next week, but, his eyes did have that unnervingly intense look to them.

With a tired sigh, you put your book to the side, and stiffly proper yourself up onto one elbow, so you are slightly looking down at him.

"What is it, nookwhiff?"

There is no response.

You sigh. ”Gamzee, look, I-.” Another tired huff of air leaves your lips. ”What’s wrong, stupid clown? I’m really to tired to deal with this, so just spit it out.”

"….you’re hurt."

You lips slowly part, mouth trying to move and form words, but surprise chokes them back into your protein chute.

Your mouth fumbles over words. "I'm...what?"

Gamzee shifts, pulling himself up and over you, not touching you but making you lay back in the horn pile as he looms over you.

He lowers himself onto one forearm, and leans down, so you two are nose to nose, and your eyes widen. God, you real hope he isn’t going into crazy clown mode right now. _~~(God, you really need to stop thinking of him that way; it took all of that shit from before that made him crack; a small thing like this wasn't going to make him go on a rampage.)~~_

"I SAID YOU WERE MOTHERFUCKING HURT."

You jump, having someone scream so closely to your ears, and take a deep breath to calm down. Shit, no matter how many times you've heard his voice modulate from normal to screaming, it still scares the shit out of you sometimes.  Alright, you can do this. This is just your moirail; nothing to be afraid of here.

"Gamzee." You wait for him to focus on what you’re saying. He doesn’t. You place your hand on his cheek, cupping it, trying to ease him back from whatever rage he's working himself up to for no reason. "Gamzee." You say again, louder but still as softly as before. "Gamzee, I’m not hurt."

His eyes are as beautiful as they are terrifying. All sharp focus and intensity, dark and luminous at the same time. His eyelashes frame those gorgeous eyes, casting shadows in the yellow corners, suggesting dark intentions.

".…don’t mother fucking lie to me."

"I.…what?"

"I SAID DON’T MOTHER FUCKING LIE TO ME!"

You're petrified and…oddly flattered. Did he…did he really think you were so pitiful that you couldn't handle yourself? Even if you were injured, you were self-sufficient enough to know how to care of yourself, even if that meant seeking help. Stupid idiot.

You gently pap him with the hand that was cupping his cheek and mutter, “Shoooooosh.”

His eyelids lower, and his brow furrows. He wavers, tempted -and you can see his eyelids flutter- but he doesn’t back down.

"Ain't no harm in this universe what should befall my beloved. Who carries out the execution of such blasphemy?"

"Nobody, Gamzee. Damn it, just listen to me! I’m _fine_. Sore, but fine."

There was silence in the respiteblock.

"….sore?"

It takes you a moment; your burrow furrows, and you stare at him like he asked you what one plus one was. When you realize what that sounded like, you scowl fiercely and lightly smack his cheek.

"Not-not _that way_ , you idiot! I just…I mean.... God! You...you fucking idiot! Stupid clown! Th-That wasn't-! You asshole!"

Your cheeks are burning and you stumble over your words. You cover your face with your hands and groan. _~~(God-you-just-want-to-crawl-into-a-hole-and-die!)~~_

"Honk!"

You groan and peek up at your moirail. The idiot was grinning at you.

"S’alright, brother. Ain’t all what is embarrassed to be getting your ‘rom on." His tone is absolutely lecherous, and your cheeks _burn_.

"Damn it, idiot! Why can't you fucking speak properly? You sound like a retarded toad!" Your cheek burn, and your look away and to the ground.

"A-And I’m not in a relationship with anyone like-like _that_! I just-."

You groan in embarrassment, and pull your sweater's neck up over your face.  "I’ve been cramping up lately." You mumble. "I meant sore in that way!"

"Oh. So, you've got cramps, then?" His tone is not the least bit less salacious, but it is more nonchalant now, like what he's saying is no big thing. It makes your face redder with mortification. The goddamn _clown._

"Gamzee, I swear if you make _one_ fucking in-heat joke I will _throttle_ you _-_." You grit out.

"Alright then, I guess I could help my motherfucker out, then."

Your brow furrows, and you tug down the neck of the sweater so your voice won't be muffled by it. You open your mouth to retort, because didn't you _just_ tell that shit-head that you would beat him if he made a heat joke, and he fucking did the bastard-. Before you know what’s happening, your moirail's face isn’t right in front of yours, and he’s leaning back and gently unfurling you from your little ball.

"G-Gamzee? What the fuck are you doing?"

"Just helping my best bro get his motherfucking relax on, 's’all, bro. Where’s it sore?"

It takes you a moment to catch on, and your jaw gapes open again, fumbling for words. Well, you suppose a massage will help loosen the muscles, but, fuck you because you still have to fight the urge to flee at the thought of anyone -yes _even_ your moirail- touching you. Also fuck you to hell and back because this was going to hurt like a _bitch_.

"....I…it's...everywhere."

He doesn’t respond, but runs his hands up your legs, up your chest until he reaches your shoulders, and starts kneading them.

"Oh!" You groan, face scrunched up in pain. "Mother ** _fuck_**!"

"Did I hurt you?" He pauses, intense eyes studying your facial expression. He frowns, and rubs light circles over the knotted muscles in your shoulders; anything you might say to reassure him wouldn't pull the wool over his eyes.

"N-No. You've already fucking started...s-so you might...might as well finish it, you fucking dumbass clown." You grit out, before getting the idea to turn around and press your back to his chest for a better angle.

"You know what? Fucking move off me. I've got a better idea." His eyelids lower over his eyes, and you see his ears drop slightly, and you wince internally because you were just dumb enough to phrase it that way and hurt his feelings, now weren't you?

You shift up on your elbows and grinding your teeth, push yourself up onto you knees. You maneuver around so your back is to him, and then sit down. A sharp jolt of pain racks through your sore muscles, but you bite your lip and bare it. You lay in between his legs and lean your back to his chest. "Here. Try it like this, numb nuts." You grumble.

There's silence behind you for a moment, and you worry your bottom lip. You turn you head and your manage to get out "I-" before he starts working in his thumbs. 

You grunt, and tears prickle behind your eyes, and you try to hold any sounds behind you lips.

You fail to.

"Damn it!" You groan. His hands still.

"....Do you want me to stop?" God damn it. The fucking idiot sounded worried. Stupid caring-for-you ass clown.

"I...I....." You swallow, and you jaw trembles. "L-Lower...." You breathe. The urge to shove the words back into your mouth- to take them back- is strong, but you manage not to.

"What?" He's obviously confused.

"My arms, idiot, my back!" He hesitates for a moment, but then his hands slip from your shoulders down to your biceps.

"Like, here?" He works his thumb at your triceps, and you didn't even know that those muscles were tensed too, but holy fuck.

"Oh, fuck!" As he rubs, the pain in your back and legs is more noticeable, and nearly unbearable.

"Y-Yes, but, try my actual fucking back cause it hurts most th-there-! Oh fucking-!" You suck in a quick breath of air, because his hands were quick to move and knead at you back, and your back bows forward over your knees, pressing your flesh into his palms.

"Mhgn! Y-Yes, there. _Fuck that **hurts**!_ Ngn!"

There was a couple minutes of silence, besides your pained gasps and grunts, before the silence was broken.

"Hey, Karbro?"

"Mhmm?" You force out, focusing on the areas being kneaded and rubbed at. It hurt like a bitch, but, it was that bearable and yet unbearable pain that told you that it was good for you. Like training hours and hours on end. It was a strain that left you wrung out of energy and drenched in sweat, but it would still be useful when you needed to protect yourself someday.

"Could you take off this sweater? I could get at your areas better." You tense up immediately, and all the work he's done is ruined, because those muscles are cramping up again, and you suck in a quick breath because holy shit that fucking _hurts_. His hands instantly work at the bigger muscles in your back, trying to soothe you, and sometimes you wonder how he knows what you're thinking or feeling so well.

"....I don’t know Gamzee."

Silence, and the hands slow.

"It’s just me, my palest of bros." He says quietly. "Ain’t nobody here gonna hurt you."

"I-I…okay." You whisper quietly, eyes clenched shut, a blush darkening your cheeks. Fuck. Your blood color still makes you uncomfortable as Hell, but everyone knows your blood color know, including your moirail. You have nothing to hide because most of everyone doesn't care about your blood color. There were only twelve of you, after all. Difference was tolerated, even if you loathed the person, for the exchange of another companion.

Gamzee gently removes your shirt and pulls it up over your head. Then he throws it down onto the floor beside the pile and goes back to massaging your back and shoulders and hips and neck.

"There we go. Ain’t that better?"

You keep silent, the blush fading from your cheeks, and endure the massage. Well, as time progresses, it really isn't that bad. Your muscles relax more and more the longer he keeps rubbing and kneading and applying pressure, and you can't believe how tense you are all the time because holy fuck this feels amazing. You feel like a lazy purr beast, all warm and loose and content. Okay, so, maybe -now that the excruciating pain has passed for the most point- you are enjoying it. More than you thought, seeing as you have relaxed more than you have in… _forever._ And...And...well...you just...you just might be...a little _too_ relaxed.  You hypothesis this by the way your bulge is unsheathing, the tip just poking out and rubbing against the fabric of your sweatpants, mistaking each rub and knead and carcass of those long-fingered hands as foreplay.

Your eyes widen, and you gnaw at your bottom lip as panic overtakes you. It was a normal reaction, of course it was! You just hope Gamzee doesn't notice. Holy shit you hope he doesn't notice. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!_ Why do you have to be such a screw up? Why couldn't you just enjoy a nice massage from your moirail without getting aroused? ( _ ~~Holy shit please fucking God let this be a fucking dream please please please.)~~_


	2. Karkat: Deny and Try To Hide Your Predictament From Your Morail

 

==> Karkat: Deny and Try To Hide Your Predicament From Your Moirail

You're trying, all right? Give a troll a fucking break.

You are glad that you have your back turned to your moirail. You'd just fucking die if he saw you like this. Not only would it be the single most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you, but you'd be shattered when he broke up with you.

Moirails weren't supposed to have anything sexual in their relationship; that's a commonly know fact. It was all non-concupiscent feelings and touching and feelings jams and shoosh-papping and cuddles and diamonds.

It wasn't supposed to be your body becoming aroused from the pain the gentle hands massaging your back had caused. Moirallegiance wasn't supposed to be your body mistaking a pale massage as black foreplay.

God, you know that you haven't swiped your figurative "V-card" yet, due to past and still present fear of being culled for your blood color, and that you were just getting out of your heat, but this was ridiculous!

Gamzee was your moirail! Your goofy and "everything is miracles" moirail! Your over possessive and overbearing and pants-shitting-terrifying and absolute _wreck_ of a fucking moirail!

You have felt nothing but the palest of pity for this pathetic excuse for a subjugglator troll, and that's true even now.

Which is why you cannot understand why your body has become aroused at his touches, even if the strain of multiple stressful-heats have built up over the sweeps.

So, you continue to sit, there, getting a sense of pleasure from the pain your moirail is influencing by massaging your sore muscles.

"So, Karbro? Feeling better?"

Your jaw wobbles as you open it, and your brows scrunch together as he kneads a particular cramped muscle just to the left of the small of your back.

You blush and your eyes widen when your bulge takes that as an invitation to slip out further, snaking out and creeping up to your navel, curling and rubbing against the skin there.

You jolt when a nose skims across the side of your neck, cold breath sweeping over the skin, and you automatically hunch your shoulders in, before forcing yourself to relax, though you were still stiff. It was your moirail; you had nothing to fear.

"Karbro?"

You clear your throat, and look down at your lap, before wincing and looking away. If you get anymore aroused, you'll have to stop this. Otherwise you'll start to actually lubricate. As in, you'll start leaking pre-genetic material through your clothes and onto the horn pile. Though, thankfully, for now at least, you've only managed to dampen and slightly wet the fabric of your pants; your skin and junk was a different story.

"I-I...I'm fine."

You gulp and pick at your fingers, suddenly finding your claws very interesting.

Unfortunately for you though, Gamzee's having none of your shit.

He nuzzles the side of your throat, a rumble building in his chest. God, you hope he's not going coco for human Coco Puffs while your back is turned and your half dressed and immobilized as you are. Basically, while your vulnerable. Fuck you can't calm him down like this.

"Don't lie to me, my precious diamond." His mouth opens, and lips brush against your shoulder, a usually sweet gesture, if it wasn't for the purposeful grazing of needle sharp teeth against your skin.

He was giving you a warning.

You shudder, and your bugle creeps out a little more. Fuck, this was going to have to stop. Soon enough you'd be dripping and giving off a scent.

_~~(You feel your stomach twist with self-disgust at your arousal from your own moirail. A fleeting thought passes through your head about how it could be red, not black, and you feel even more disgusted with yourself. Red or black, it was *not* okay to feel that way about your moirail, no matter how influenced by certain things your arousal is.)~~ _

"I...It just...it hu-hurts a lot, is all. Not that I don't appreciate it! Because I do. It just hurts, is all...."  
You manage to smatter out. You realise you're trembling faintly, and you can feel a pressure behind your eyes.

_~~(Oh hell no! Of fucking **hell** no! You weren't going to cry about getting aroused because your moirail was give you a massage! No! Fuck  **no** **!** You'd make him stop, take care of the problem, have a shower, do other stuff, sleep, and be over it by morning and everything would be okay and back to normal. Stop being such a fucking wriggler!)~~ _

The hands massaging your sides stop, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Arms wrap around you, and you yelp as you're pulled back against your moirail's chest. You shiver when he nuzzles the side of your head, nose grazing against your pointed ear.

"Sorry, bro...." Your moirail mumbles against your head, face nuzzled into your hair.

You shiver again, and feel your gut clench from being held flush against him. You gasp as a liquid rush flows near your vital regions, and you start to squirm in his grip, afraid that you'll squirt if you don't make it to the load gaper _right this second_!

Gamzee tightens his arms around you, and pulls you tighter against his chest. "What do you think your getting to, all squirming around and shit, little diamond?"

"Damn it, Gamzee! Let go of me!"

You struggle, attempting to fight the already lost battle against highblooded strength, and get out of his arms.

After much struggling, and several minutes, you hear a snarl, and you're suddenly roughly squeezed and turned around, slamming forward into your moirail's chest.

You unscrew up your face from landing against his chest, and peer up at your moirail, eyes widening in fright and worry when you see the dark eyes glaring down at you. Fuck, your moirail had days like this, when he was very close to the edge -not that he wasn't usually, but it was just much easier for him to slip and lose himself on "bad days" like today- and they always scared you to death. You always feared that you wouldn't be enough to calm him down, or that you wouldn't be around to calm him down.

He sneers down at you. "I ASKED YOU A MOTHERFUCKING QUESTION." He snarled.

You wiggle around, wanting to raise a hand and shoosh pap him, but he just tightens his grip to the point where you feel a significant pressure on your ribs, a warning. You've noticed that he can get testy when you refuse his advances ever since he went sober; he wouldn't just roll over and let you walk all over him all the time anymore. Which wasn't a bad thing, lord knows you need someone who can see past your bullshit, but at times it could scare the fuck out of you, as you were used to troll that was always just so willing to go with the flow of those around him. The change was just startling at times, was all.

You look up at him, the previously yellow sclera of his eyes starting to bleed into orange. You gulp, and your trembling lips part.

"I...I...fuck it all Gamzee, I just need to use the load gaper." You force out, then swallow around the lump in your throat.

He blinks down at you, surprised, and you use that to your advantage. You "shoosh" him, and slowly reach out a hand to pap his cheek. You're surprised when he lets you move your arm from his tight hold.

You pap his cheek, his nose, his mouth, while murmuring "shoooooooossh" at him repeatedly.

You watch with a quiet wonder at his eyes. He goes from glaring at you, to watching you intently, to gazing at you, to his gaze going half-lidded, to glazed over, to then to fluttering shut the longer you shoosh pap him.

However, his grip is still tight, and you definitely need to get some privacy via the ablution-chamber based on the piping hot heat pooling around your nook and bulge.

Your other arm strokes at one of his arms.

"That's it," you mutter soothingly, "relax. Nobody but your moirail is here. Everything is okay. Shoooosh."

After about another minute, you blush when you feel something wet dribble down your leg, and tense in his arms.

"N-Now, do you think you can let me up? Otherwise I'm going to pee all over you, fucking shitty-ass clown...." You mumble.

Gamzee's eyelids raise up about half way, and he starts to rumble softly in his chest as he takes in your flushed face.

Before you know what's happening, your moirail suddenly sweeps you up into his arms, princess style, and you thank whatever deity is out there that he was only touching your knees, and nothing higher, in the case that he had accidently touched the increasingly damn spot on the seat of your sweatpants.

Your moirail carries you to the ablution block, and opens and sets you down on the seat of the load gaper, and wraps his arms around you, cheek pressed against your chest, and that rumbling purr resounding throughout your chest and the silence of the block.

Well fuck. Of course you'd manage to get in a situation like this. Only you would have your moirail clinging to you as your state of arousal was making itself evident.

Fuck fuck _fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck **fuck**!_


	3. Karkat: Breath And Try Not To Mess Up The Only Quadrant You Have Filled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future me: This chapter has been edited. Much better now. 
> 
> -Past You of 8/16/16

 

==> Karkat: Breathe And Try Not To Mess Up The Only Quadrant You Have Filled

_~~(Dear fucking god that voice in your head needs to stop fucking telling you to do things that you are already doing!)~~ _

You squirm on the load gapers seat, thighs pressed together, and hunching in on yourself, wishing your stupid bulge would just go back in its sheath and stop creeping up your stomach. Fuck was this embarrassing.

Gamze continues to rumble against your chest, and you cannot help but relax against him, body leaning against his. God, you were paler than all fuck for this pathetic, psycho clown-troll, and you really wish your body would take a hint and **_retract your fucking bulge_**.

You bite your lip when you feel your sheath open further, nook lips being revealed, and shiver as your bulge slides out further. Fuck.

It doesn't help when Gamzee cuddles closer. Fuck, how _haven't_ you embarrassed yourself and fucked up your single quadrant before this? How have you even managed to hide it for the fifteen or so minutes that you have been able to?

You're so lost in thought, that you jolt when your bulge brushed across the right grubscar of your lowest pair*. 

You moan, loud and unrestrained and arch your back, pressing into Gamzee. You gasp when you unsheath completely and your budgle slithers all the way out.

You close your eyes, cheeks flushed a bright red, and don't notice the grey and yellow eyes peering up at you.

Your budgle wriggles on your belly, rubbing and grinding itself against the skin and the sweater you're wearing.

You come back when you feel your hand twitch, and lift, aiming to push down your pants, and remember that the person hugging you was your moirail.

You gasp, eyes flying open, and peer down at the eyes staring up at you.

 _Fuck_. Oh _shit_. No, _please_ don't let this be happening....

Your blood-pusher races frantically, and panic overwhelms you. Your mouth opens, jaw trembling, and your eyes sting with oncoming tears. 

"S-Shit, Gamzee...please, I can explain...." You plead weakly, and don't stop the translucent red tears that trickle down your cheeks.

You whimper, shoulders shaking, and foreknowledge of the effects of your fuck up press in at you from all sides. A frustrated and sorrowful whine leaves your mouth, and you reach up to scrub at your eyes.

Fuck, he was going to break up with you. ~~_Great going, moirail-fucker._~~

You hiccup in a breath, a whine of anguish escaping your lips, rubbing your eyes with the palm of your hands.

"I-I'm so sorry! I can't help it! It-It's just that...I've been in heat for so long and I ha-a-ven't," your breath stutters on a hiccup and it's just so fucking embarrassing, "been able to find some-someone will-willing to-to pail mme and and it-its jus-just so hard trying to find," you keen out another hiccup, and you're just so frustrated and distressed, "someon-one will-wiling to. And it just get-gets so frustr-rating and I hadn't ever meant to-!"

You're so angry at yourself that you start to scratch at your own face; you drag your nails along your cheeks and up into your hair, pulling roughly at the roots. Who the fuck cares? You probably just messed up the one quadrant with the person who gave enough of a shit about you to bother with your useless ass. Who cares if you pull out lumps of hair or scratch your face up? Because you certainly couldn't give enough of a fuck at the moment. Hell, who _else_ would even fucking care? Nobody, that's who. No one after Gamzee leaves you that is.

Your hands are suddenly caught, and you whimper, sucking in quick breaths, as a palm comes up to your face and starts to pap you.

"Shoooooooosh." You hear.

You whine low in your throat, protesting. You're a disgusting moirail-fucking mutant. You deserve to die.

The palm raises to your temples, paping there, as though he could read your thoughts. Hell, with his weird dream/chuckle voodoo clown shit thingys he problem could.

You hiccup again, gasping in a whining breath.

"Shoooooosh, my palest of diamonds. Its okay; I'm not mad at you. Shooooooosh."

You whimper, and raise your arms, seeking comfort from him. You don't care if you've soaked the fucking load gaper seat or not, you don't care if you've just fucked up your moirallegiance and that he wasn't your moirail anymore; you just want to cuddle with your fucking moirail so badly that you can't summon a shit. Future you was going to be fucking embarrassed and disgusted with your current despicable behavior, but you just don't fucking care.

You can sense the moment of hesitation, now that he knows exactly what is going on down below, and you wince, slowly dropping your arms and turn your face away, face scrunched up, eyes squeezed closed, and bottom lip quivering. _God, of course._ Who would want to touch _you_ _ **now**? _ You were on the market as a moirail-humper, and you'd managed to stupidly fuck up the one quadrant that _was somewhat actually going well for you-._

Nobody would, that's who. Fuck if anyone would even want to be around you ever _again._

You wince again when you hear another heart-broken whine escape your maw, and whimper in distress. _God. Fucking. Damnit._ Of course you would fall to pieces, unable to gather the smallest shred of dignity to hold onto when breaking up with your moirail. _Of-fucking-course._

You make a surprised sound, a little bark of surprise, when you're suddenly enveloped in a cool embrace, lean and lightly muscled arms surrounding you and pulling you protectively to Gamzee's chest.

You whimper again, desperate to be comforted, and vaguely notice that your bulge has retreated some.

You hiccup in another distressed breath, hoping now that the rest of it will go away, back into its sheath where it belongs.

But fuck if your moirail, pan-rotted as he might be, wasn't smart. Well, from what you can gather as he whispers into your hair, face buried in your black locks.

"Shoooosh, my most wonderful of miracles. It's all okay. I'm not mad at you. You did nothing wrong. It happens sometimes; it's understandable. Trolls sometimes get aroused during massages; it happens after a troll goes through his or her puplation. It's all just hormones, my precious diamond. Shoooooosh."

You whine and open your mouth, forcing the words out, no matter how much you were disgusted with the words themselves. Sometimes piling was like ripping off a bandage. 

"But, I-I was fee-feeling b-blac-ck fee-elings! From my mor-moirail! I'm dis-disgus-sting!" You grit your teeth and scrub at your eyes, frustrated with yourself.

Gamzee paps you, and you feel his body tense. You whimper and your adam's apple bobs. You reach up and clench your hands in his shirt and nuzzle his shoulder, hopping he wouldn't be disgusted at  or upset with you. 'Fuck, please don't leave me.' The thought is brief and fleeting, but true, and then you push it down.

You feel it as his mouth parts again, his lips brushing locks of your hair and causing you to shiver.

"Never. And I mean **_never_**! _Talk. About. Yourself. Like. That. Again._ " He hisses against your cranium, and you shiver again as you envision his needle like teeth, and how easily they could penetrate and crush the part of your skull that the lips containing them pressed so sweetly against.

You feel like culling yourself when your bulge squirms, wiggling a little bit further out of its sheath.

" _NEVER!_ " He growls, as if in response to your thought, pulling you to him with his arms wrapped around you, effortlessly lifting you off the floor and into his hold. His hands sneak up through the back of your hair, and you give a panicked bark when you realize he is going for your horns.

Not only were they too short and therefore over-sensitive for normal moirail relations, with your hormones acting up as they were, you _knew_ that wasn't a good idea right now.

"G-Gamzee! D-Don't-!" You suck in a deep breath, and your eyes roll back, as your rumbling moirail takes hold of your horns, one thumb accidentally jabbing into the junction between skull and the red base, and your body jerks as you lose control of your junk, and your nook squirts cheery red fluid, soaking both your's and Gamzee's clothes, and leaking through your clothes to dribble slightly against the floor.

You're loose, every muscle lax and forced to pliancy. It seems your moirail had managed to effortlessly find your submission reflex.

You can't even whimper as your moirail looks down at you in shock, eyes that had been bleed yellow-orange wide, not quite understanding what just happened.

It's only a second later, that your previous vulnerability comes back to mind and your past fear of him losing his faygo-flavored marbles comes back. Oh fuck. You really hope you hadn't just gotten in the predicament you think you just got in. It'd been almost a fucking sweep since Gamzee was driven insane, and he hadn't done anything of much similarity since. ~~_(Besides playing with a few corpses, but you think that's enough of a victory to put it in the 'win' pile.)_~~ You hadn't honestly been worried about him flipping off the handle for several human earth months. Sure, he'd gotten a little too upset at times, but you'd never seen his eyes ever revert back to the murderous red. 

But, now, laying vulnerable and at his whims like this, having seen his eyes anything but a placid yellow scares the shit out of you because it drags out fears out of the dust. You swear your heart skips a beat when you fully comprehend your situation.

He could do anything to you right now. Fuck, if he could remember where your submission reflex was, he could forever hold it over your head. Which was a horrible thing, stoned or sober. At least if he was stoned, he wouldn't be set on-on-. Fuck, you knew it was your moiral, but he could kill or maim or rape you and ** _you wouldn't be able to fucking do anything about it_** -.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, **fuck!**_

While you are having an internal panic attack, you don't notice the yellow-orange eyes peering down at you.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Lowest pair of grubscars are around belly button height.


	4. Karkat: Hope That Your Moirallegiance With Your Moirail Is Strong Enough To Get You Through This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh you guys I'm having WAAAAAY too much fun writing this!
> 
> You know, the morning I woke up after re-writing the first chapter, I swear I had at least four non-guest kudos. Seriously, you guys are awesome.

 

==> Karkat: Hope That Your Moirallegiance With Your Moirail Is Strong Enough To Get You Through This Without Being Culled

~~_(OhmyfuckinggoshstoptellingmethingsI'malreadydoingyoufuckingstupidshameglobesuckingfucker!)_ ~~

You wish you could close your eyes as you finally come back to yourself. Hell, you were still fucking freaking out, but, you were -unfortunately- able to pay attention to what was happening around you.

You notice your moirail's curious and excited eyes running over you, and you internally whimper as you notice that the sclera of his eyes have bleed fully orange in his excitement.

Embrassment and nervousness and fear twist in your gut in a continuous string of _'Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck!'_

Your moirail carefully scoops you up, and carries you back into the respiteblock. He gently lays you down on the horn pile, cautiously and carefully lowering your legs, then your torso, then your arms and shoulders, before oh so gently lowering your neck and head back into a small indentation you hadn't noticed he'd made for you in the horn pile.

You feel yourself trickle a little, out of arousal or fear your not sure, and scream in your head in embarrassment at the heat that fills your cheeks as your eyes gaze at the ceiling.

You feel fear when you realise he made that indentation purposely, not just out of your comfort, though you hope that was at least a small part of it, but because he didn't want you to be able to see what he was doing. Being unable to move, you could only stare directly at what was above you, leaving your throat exposed, and vision severely limited. It was almost equal to -if not better than- being blindfolded, gagged, and tied up.

You just now realise how fully in deep shit you are, especially with -in your panicking mind- only a currently borderline rampaging highblood -even if he was your moirail- around to take care of you.

_Oh shiiiiiiiiiit._

_Bulgehumping bilgespewer pimplesqueezing shamefucking scumbag shitting assbitching nookpimple-._

_Fucking shit damnit grubfucking asshat of a stupid fucking pastself. Fucking **Hell.**_

You hadn't realised that your inner turmoil showed on the outside by the tears leaking down your motionless face, and you internally whimper when a curly head, long horns, and yellow and grey eyes pop into your line of vision and peer down at you. A long-fingered, grey hand strokes the side of your face, wiping away the tears on your cheeks, and gazing into your panicking, scared, and sorrowful gaze.

"Shooosh." Gamzee murmurs, talking over a building rumble in his chest. He was clearly excited about finding your submission reflex. "My most precious of diamonds, ain't there nothing to be worrying about. I'll take the best care of you, my precious motherfucker. Ain't you do nothing but sit back right there and enjoy what all I'll be putting onto you."

Thousands of scenarios flood your mind, old past fears that you can't beat down, and more tears leak out of your eyes. He wipes them away. "Trust me, most precious of diamonds." He gazes intensely into your eyes, his own reflecting a fierce, almost inane excitement and soft intensity.

You whimper internally again, but focus on his eyes. Fuck, even if this _was_ a volatile clown with the looming power over you of highblooded strength and the knowledge of your submission reflex, he was _your_  volatile clown with highblooded strength and knowledge of your submission reflex. If you couldn't trust your own moirail, who could you trust? Nobody.

So, you peer into his eyes, a couple more tears escaping your eyelids, which he wipes away, and focus your thoughts.

'You can hear me, can't you?'

"Of course."

You would nod your head, except that you can't. You fucking knew it. The bastard had been clown fucking with your head again. You were so going to get on his ass on that at a later date.

'Al-Alright. I trust you.' You have thousands of doubts and insecurities swarming around those three words, but they were true. However shaky that trust was at the moment, due to your moirail's unstable mentality, you did trust Gamzee with your well-being. _~~When he wasn't psycho-rampaging, that is.~~_

Gamzee smiles at you, soft and slow, and paps your face; your cheeks, your lips, your chin, your temples and forehead, and carefully over your eyes.

You feel an instinctive spike of fear in you as he gently presses two fingers just over your eyelids.

"Shoooooooosh." You hear him mumble, right before your eyelids are gently pushed down, and your world is black.

You feel an overwhelming panic rise inside you. You've never been this helpless before. Even as a wriggler, you were less vulnerable than this. As a fucking wriggler; a membrane filled with cytoplasm with legs and a head; you were less vulnerable than you were right now.

Right now, you couldn't see, couldn't move, had no control over your body, and were left in the hands of your unpredictable morial.

A hand paps your forehead. "Shoooooosh, my favorite motherfucker. I'm going to take care of you. Ain't no need to worry. It's all gonna be okay. Don't worry 'bout nothing. Trust me. You said you fucking trust me, so motherfucking _trust me_."

You would shiver if you could, but can't. You feel another spike of fear at his raised voice, and feel a pap in response.

'I-I trust y-you.' You think, the thought stuttering from nervousness and fear.

You do. Much as you hate the situation, you do.

"Then relax." Comes the gentle voice. "I'm going to take care of you."

You nod mentally. 'Y-yes. Okay. Please don't hurt me, Gamzee. Please take good care of me.'

You flush cheery red, and mentally slap yourself for the last two thoughts. Fuck, he wasn't supposed to hear that! Shit, having at least two mind-invading friends, you would think you had a little more control than that over your damn thoughts!

You hear a quick intake of breath, and a moment of silence. Your blood-pusher pounds in your chest as you wait for a response, ears straining to pick up the slightest noise.

You suddenly hear a loud rumble, and you're scooped up, pressed against Gamzee's chest, head pressed against his chest, ear listening to the frantic pound of his own blood-pusher. It's then you realise, that the reason he is so excited, was because this was the most vulnerable you had ever allowed him to see you as, intentionally or not.

You cheeks burn a bright cherry red, and a little whine of breath is pushed from your lungs when he gets too excited and hugs you a little too hard. Fucker was probably still listening to your thoughts, and agreeing to them.

Gamze purrs loudly, and you feel the rumbling vibrations as you are pressed against his chest.

'Silly clown.' You think, aiming the thought directly at him. You only get the same purr in response. 'You are absolutely ridiculous, you know that, right? I can't believe you have a submission kink.' 'Then again I have a highblooded-strength kink, so I shouldn't be complaining about how weird your kinks are.' You see a flash of a memory, a quick flash of Gamzee's teeth against your shoulder, and a twisting heat of arousal in your gut, before pushing it aside and laminating on the fact that you could probably cook breakfast on your face. _'Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck this wasn't the time for those kinds of thoughtswhenyouhadsomeonelisteningtosaidthoughtsohmygodthi **sisfuckingembarrasing!** '_ You think exasperatedly, and you would've groaned if you could've in embarrasment.

Gamzee is still purring above you, but you hear a startled sound and then a chuckle during parts of your mental monologue.

You would've scowled if you could've. 'Shut up, you grubfucker. It's not easy to keep your thoughts to yourself when somebody is actively listening in.'

Gamzee just chuckles in response, head tucked on top of your chin, purring away as he closes his eyes.

It's then when you finally pay attention to your desperate bulge, which was squirming against your stomach, begging for attention.

Gamzee takes notice of your situation, listening in on even your subconscious thoughts, and makes a chiding and worried sound in his throat as he pulls back, and gently lowers you back on to the horn pile.

It's then, as Gamzee taps his hands against the waistband of your pants, peering up at you from underneath thick lashes with yellow and grey eyes, that you realise, you didn't have your sweater on.

But, your bulge had been rubbing against an article of clothing earlier, and it wasn't your sweat pants, meaning....

If you could've, you would've stared at Gamzee in shock, and probably caught the wink he aimed at you with a mischievous grin.

However, you couldn't do or see that, so you just lay there in shock, as you hear the chuckle that resounds throughout the room.


	5. Karkat: Try Not To Lose Your Shit As You Lie Vulnerable At Your Moirails Whims

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Grins widely.) So some of you actually commented! You have no idea how happy that made me! Literally, I was smiling as I read the comments.
> 
> So, this chapter is dedicated to Bec_Makara and Blueyay, who both commented. XD
> 
> Also, if this story keeps going as it is, I'll probably have to bump it up to Explicit. Just FYI.
> 
> Also, you all will be in for a treat by going back through the chapters. Not only have I fixed them up a little, but you'll be able to spot some revelations that have been made in the last two chapters. A.KA. I edited the story again and you'll have to re-read. Gomensai.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy~!
> 
> * * *
> 
> I got the idea of 'rolling the pants down' from this fanfiction: [Midnight by reraimu (GamJohn)](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7413651/1/Midnight)  
> Sorry it's not a proper citation, but hopefully this will suffice.
> 
> Future Me,
> 
> Edited this chapter. Your welcome.
> 
> \- Past You of 8/16/16

 

==> Karkat: Try Not To Lose Your Shit As You Lie Vulnerable At Your Psychotic Moirails Whims

**_(Oh-my-fucking-god-you-were-going-to-find-the-source-of-the-stupid-voice-in-your-head-and-fucking-cull-it!)_ **

You don't think you've ever been this red in the face before. Of all the embarrassing shit that has happened to you, this has to have been the worst.

 _He knew. The. Whole. Fucking. Time. That. You. Were. Aroused_.

Holy fucking shit.

Why can't you just die of embarrassment? Because you want to; desperately.

It also doesn't help that you know that your moirail has been listening to every little thought that has been rolling around in your head for the past 1/2 hour or so. Hell, he'd probably been listening in long before that.

Probably ever since he went sober. Maybe even before that.

You just stare into the blackness that is your eyelids, and feel the burning of your cheeks.

You hear Gamzee's rumbling purr down near your hips, and feel the sharp points of his claws tapping at your waistband.

You mentally gulp. _'O-Okay. You can take them off. But I don't want to hear and fucking bullshit judging about what you see._ '

You feel the soft pap on your right hip in response to your nervousness, and -in a sort of self-defensive comfort- you mentally start rambling about the quadrants and anything that comes across your mind, as you feel him slowly start to roll down the fabric.

Yes, you heard that right. Not "pull off the fabric" or "push down the fabric" or "take off the fabric".

No, the fucker decides to slowly start rolling the fabric of your sweat pants down, slowly revealing inch after painful inch of your grey skin.

He was unwrapping you like a fucking present.

You could cook a fucking cluck beast egg on your face when you hear Gamzee's corresponding purr get louder.

' _God, take me now._ ' You beg mentally. Holy fuck, you've never been this embarrassed.

Gamzee chuckles, gaze intently locked on your junk, at least, from what you could tell, as it felt like a hole was being burned through your flesh, and he finally gets your sweats rolled down to your knees.

"I'm working on it." You can practically feel the sharp-toothed grin being aimed at you.

God this was _so_ fucking embarrassing, but...you don't want this to stop.

~~_You'd hate to say it, but you love feeling vulnerable like this; being so helpless and dependent._ ~~

You love having your moirail take care of you.

The hands that were rolling your pants down to your ankles stop, and the purring becomes louder. Seems the fucker was still listening into your thought. _Fucking damn it._

He finally manages to roll them down to your ankles, and then oh-so-carefully rolls them off your feet, and then tosses aside the now coiled pants.

You thought for a minute that he was going to tie your feet together with them, before remembering that you were immobilized. Yeah, while you were incapable of consciously controlling your body, there was definitely no need for bindings and blindfolds; your submission reflex was more than enough to make up for the both of them.

You can't help it when your mind goes over your situation again.

 _(_ ~~_You can't see, move, speak; you can't control your body. You weren't clothed, and you were in the care of a unstable clown known for the murder of your friends.)_ ~~

Of fucking hell; _what have you gotten yourself into_.

You didn't notice that you were crying again until you felt the thumbs on your cheeks wiping away your tears, the hands paping you face, and the whispering of "shoosh" at you. _~~You can't believe you're being so fucking embarrassing. As if your situation wasn't bad enough, you had to go and be a complete and utter fucking cry baby.~~_

You whimper mentally, and after a moment of hesitation, aim a mental image at Gamzee.

You weren't sure if it worked, but the next moment you are gently but firmly pulled into Gamzee's cool embrace, head cradled and pressed against his chest.

He purrs above you, a great, loud, rumbling purr coming from deep in his chest.

Seems your moirail really liked taking care of you like this.

"I really do." He affirms, voice slightly muffled from being buried in your hair.

A muscle in your jaw jumps and you can't hide the way your pulse jumps. _'R...Really?_ ' .

He tightens his hold around you.

"Of mother fucking course!"

You feel a swell of happiness press against the embarrassment trying to weigh you down. _'I...okay...good_.'

Gamzee purrs, and then gently lowers you back down after a moment.

You feel another spike of loneliness and fear, and you wish you could at least hold his hand.

You would've jolted in surprise if you could've, when Gamzee's cold hand takes a hold of yours, grasping it..

Your face burns and another swell of happiness rises in you. _Okay, so maybe this mind-reading thing wasn't so bad._

Gamzee laughs, and takes up one of your feet with his other hand.

You groan mentally when he starts massaging it, using his thumbs the press into the arch.

Your feet have always been sensitive, and while aroused like this, were a great source of foreplay.

You hear a little bark from Gamzee, and his hand gently pulls off yours.

You still feel safe when he pulls away.

He trails his hand lightly down your body, over the dips and curves of your hip, thigh, knee, calf, and ankle, comforting you; letting you know where his hands were.

You moan and your teeth rake over your bottom lip when he takes your foot up into his hands, and using his thumbs to really massage your feet.

Your face burns when you feel yourself squirt - nook loving the attention- and you aim a thought at Gamzee.

 _'We should probably do this on the floor, on a couple of towels. Otherwise the hornpile is going to be dyed with slurry._ '

You don't see it when orange and grey eyes droop, staring down at your writhing candy red bugle, and you misplace the resounding purr going through the room.

Gamzee continues to massage your foot, until any and all tension has been released, and you feel as if you haven't ever walked on it before; as if it hasn't ever been hardened by use before. He then moves onto the other.

 _'Come on Gamzee. I, for one, don't want to be laying in my own genetic material from this point onward. I'm sure Terezi won't either._ '

A loud, almost sudden honking laugh resounds throughout the room. "Terezi? That blueblooded bitch? I broke up with that hag a loooong mother _fucking_ time ago, my cheery blooded fucker."

You feel a pang of pain at the mention of Terezi, and you feel embarrassed by the couple tears that slip down your cheeks. You really wish you had some semblance of control over your outer expressions right now.

Gamzee goes quiet, and your foot is gently set down.

There's nothing but silence in the room, before Gamzee speaks.

"That bitch won't anything good for us, my most precious of diamonds. She caused your blood-pusher to all up and brake, she helped me lose my fucking shit, and she caused wicked nasty negative feelings between you and me. Bitch isn't needed anymore. As a matter of fact, I got rid of the whole fucking problem all together, _WHEN I BROKE UP WITH THE BITCH_."

Your face darkens in shame when you feel yourself trickle again, and you'd rather not dwell on whether it was arousal or fear that caused it. You snap yourself out of your inner monologue and focus on your moirail instead of the frantic pounding of your blood-pusher and your desperate mating parts.

'Shoooooooooooooooooooooosh!' You think, aiming the thought at Gamzee as best you could. Fuck, you wish you could move right now. You don't want to be this fucking vulnerable if you're needed to calm Gamzee down if he loses his shit again. _~~(You doubt he will, but your defenseless situation has your mind imagining worst-case scenarios.)~~_

 _'Focus on me, Gamzee. You're taking care of me, remember? My big, strong moirail is taking care of his helpless diamond. Come on, focus on me._ ' Your face burns. ~~_God, you'd never live what you just said down. Fucking-damn-it-that-shit-was-embarrassing-why-does-this-keep-happening-to-you-oh-my-fucking-God._~~

You're so lost in your embarrassment, you don't notice when those orange eyes focus back on you. You don't notice them slowly dragging over you, taking in every little detail.

Taking in your nubby horns, the way your hair parts and falls around your face, framing it. Your broad shoulders and short frame. Taking in your lightly muscled arms and legs, your six abdominal muscles. The dips and curves of your legs. Taking it the rounded nails on your fingers that end in sharp points. Your roughened, but smooth and dainty feet. Taking in your closed eyes, and long lashes. Your candy red, flushed cheeks and full, chapped, and pouty lips. Your little turned up, pixie nose.

And last but not least, your fully retracted sheath. The full length of your bulge squirming and grinding and curling in on itself and anything it can reach.

Your hot and flushed, red nook lips, glistening with translucent cherry red fluid.

However, you do notice when he thrusts an image in your mind.

You're in shock, staring at the image filling the darkness of your closed eyelids.

It was a quick and blurry image of him doing passionate and filthy flushed things to you, followed by a better thought out image of a pail with a heart and diamond on it, accompanied with a multitude of jumbled emotions, including but not limited to: lust, self-disgust, curiosity, excitement, rage, gentleness, and pity.

So much fucking pity.

It's at that moment, that you realise that Gamzee pities you just as much, if not more strongly, than you do him. Thinking about it, you realse that it's about equal, but he probably just feels it more...capriciously, what with his new, possessive sober side of him.


	6. Karkat: Try To Answer Your Moirail's Non-Verbal Question Without Screwing Up The Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, did you guys know that this story has 788 hits?! That is AWESOME!!!! The fact that I rewrote and added chapters to this in the past week or three (I lost track of time. XD) and got such an amazing response is AWESOME!!
> 
>  **A/N of 8/15/15:** Hey guys. I just wanted to say that this story isn't abandoned. I know I'd gotten into a rhythm of updating frequently on this one, but it's gonna be a little while until the next update. I'm super lazy and writing other stories, as well. My apologies!
> 
> But, again, it isn't abandoned! So those that were fretting about it; don't. It is all chill. Let's all sit on this pile of chillness. Sipping smoothies of fucking chillness while chilling on the pile of chillness. Fuck yes. All the chillness. ALL of it.
> 
> Anyway, my lazy butt might take a while to update. XP
> 
> Comments? Please?
> 
> Future Me,
> 
> Your welcome. Edited.
> 
> \- Past You of 8/16/16

 

==> Karkat: Try To Answer Your Moirail's Non-Verbal Question Without Screwing Up The Situation

**(Oh-my-fucking-God-that's-it-that-voice-is-so fucking-done-you-were-going-to-cull-it!-It-was-so fucking-dead!)**

You stare in shock at the image in your head. You feel it when Gamzee starts to slip on his carefully maintained patience, ~~_(It was amazing that he'd been able to keep such a tight rein on his emotions; you were having enough trouble as it was struggling with your own emotions, and yet here your mentally unstable moirail was, being the tightly held together one for you.)_ ~~ a snarl slipping past his lips as his nails dig into the horn pile on either side of you, sharp, talon like claws shredding the rubber and the metal of the horns.

You try to rein in your rampaging thoughts, and focus on Gamzee. _'Shooosh! It's okay. Calm down-.'_

"Don't tell me to _fucking calm down_!" Gamzee snarls at you, and you desperately wish that you could move, or at least open your eyes.

You internally shudder, and you feel another spike of shame as you trickle a little again. God, you really wish you had emptied your bladder earlier.

You swallow your feelings of shame and fear, and focus on your moirail. _'Shoooooooosh!'_

Gamzee growls, and you hear the squealing grinding of the hornpile beneath you as his claws tear the horns beneath his hands to shreds.

You frantically try to find a way to pause the situation, and you panic a little. You suck it up and push down your panic, however, and attempt once again to focus on your moirail. _'Gamzee? Just....Fucking shoooosh, douchebag. Stupid, dumb, shitty, faygo-chugging, pitiful clown. I don't...moirail's aren't supposed to pail. You know that Gamzee. And what of our flushed quadrants? Are you suggesting...do we just...what do we....Are we going to combine our quadrants? Can that even be done? How will we still function? The two quadrants aren't too different, but their purposes are opposites. What will happen? Will it be the same as now, besides...pailing with each other? I...Gamzee....'_

You're babbling and you know it, but so much shit was going through your thinkpan that you just spewed word vomit everywhere.

You hadn't realised you were starting to hyperventilate, until you noticed that your lungs were burning from lack of oxygen.

However, it's hard to regulate your breathing when you're not in control of your body, so, you turn to your moirail for help. Even though he was _just_  refraining from going shit-hive maggots on you.

You focus on your moirail as translucent ruby tears trickle down your cheeks. _'G-Gamzee. Please. I can't breathe. Take care of me.'_

You internally pull at your hair in embarrassment. _Fuck, you need to get this mind communication thing down._

Your eyes are stuck staring at the back of your eye lids, so you don't see it when your moirail's eyes snap up to yours.

You feel your gut clench and your breath painfully stutters in your chest as you feel a long boned finger gently wipe the tears off your cheek. That same finger then trails down to your lips, tracing the plump bottom and chapped top, before laying flat against your lips in a 'quiet' motion.

"Shooooosh." Gamzee murmurs, after leaning over you, propping himself up on one hand. "I've got you. Shooosh."

You moan quietly without your consent, and a quiet purr slowly pushes itself out of your throat. Your cheeks flush a bright red, and you're suddenly glad your eyes are shut.

Your mind reminds you of how vulnerable you are, layed out like this at your moirail's whims, naked and helpless. You feel another spike of fear and unease, but a hand paps your chest, and, along with the finger laying across your lips, you feel your breathing even out.

Gamzee continues to shoosh-pap you until you feel as if you are made out of pity itself, and you feel yourself slowly start to drift off.

But, suddenly, your gut jerks and you internally freeze up, a squeak escaping your mouth. There was a cold hand gently tracing the crook between your nook and thigh, gently brushing against your bulge as it withered in the air.

Your cheeks blush in embarrasment and shame at the loud moan that pours out of your mouth when your bulge eagerly wraps around Gamzee's wrist, looping once, twice, thrice, and a fourth time up his forearm, the little slitted, diamond shaped tip waving gently against Gamzee's skin.

Gamzee twists his hand up, hand tracing the bottom of your bulge, where it parts your nook lips, and your body jerks, before arching off the horn pile.

"So, what's the motherfucking answer, my most pitiful of brothers? I don't give a fuck about what our quadrants end up like."

"YOU ARE MINE."

"Mine property. My priority."

"NO OTHER FUCKER WILL EVER TOUCH YOU LIKE I WILL. I won't let them anywhere near you."

"Is your lust red or pale, best friend? I JUST NEED A MOTHERFUCKING ANSWER."

Gamzee slides his hand around the base of your bulge, just brushing against and stimulating your nook lips, and squeezes your bulge. It was too much for you, and your body arches off the horn pile, toes curling, and you scream, your right hand curling around a horn, as your other scrambles for purchase, scratching at the horns below.

You ride the waves of your orgasm, until you finally come down from your high. You come back to yourself a few minutes later, and you feel an even deeper sense of laxness now that you've orgasmed. You can feel your smaller amount of genetic material coating your stomach, arms, legs, your junk, and even your neck and face. You would've shuddered in disgust if you could've.

It takes you a moment to remember what you had been doing before, and it all rushes back to you. You immediately reach out your mind to your moirail to soothe him. _'Er, yes. I-fuck. Both. I guess? I don't know....fuck I dunno....oh god...I guess....fuck. I know I'm more pale for you than red. So, we could...we could try...the human version? Maybe. Like, the both/merge thingy the humans do, I guess....If you want that, too?'_ You want to slap yourself at your awkwardness and stuttering.

Your body jerks again, as you feel a cold, slick muscle slide across your right hip, and you feel a puff of cool breath against your skin, sharp fangs barely grazing the flesh, and making your stomach muscles tremble.

Gamzee licks at your hip, lips pulled back over his needle sharp teeth in a wide, snarling smile, and he chuckles. "You've got it, my most miraculous of brothers." He purrs against your skin.


	7. Notice Chapter

Hi Everyone!

 

So sorry to pull a "Important Notice chapter", but first let me say: I'm not quitting the story.

 

In fact, I believe I've pretty much completed the revision.

But I'd still like to hear some feedback before I post the next chapter. 

Like...how...jeez. I've worked on making Karkat sound more like Karkat, and I've worked on trying to edge Gamzee away from the fandom-typical "about to fly off the handle" Gamzee stereotype.

I've hashed out a better flow to the chapters; I've rewrote sentences and added hundreds of words here and there.

I've fixed grammar mistakes and I've worked on substituting repetitive words.

I've tried to slow the sexual pace of the story down to something more realistic, especially for these characters and their personalities and situations.

 

P.S. But I still might/will probably go over it a couple more times on my own. Just to be more sure so we don't repeat the whole "going under construction shit" super soon.

I guess I'm just looking for some outside positive input....

So, encouraging thoughts, anyone?


	8. Karkat: Stay Coherent Enough To Keep Your Moirail Calm While You Enjoy Every Moment Of This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Important!**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> This is kind of a spoiler, but I don't really quite know how to properly identify this to tag it, so I'm just leaving a spoiler so anyone can avoid the chapter if they need to.
> 
> Karkat pretty much gets triggered by his blood color abruptly during sexy times and freaks out and hyperventilates? Likes sexy times are rolling and then he's all triggered and feeling awful and just wanting a hug.
> 
> _Tags for: panic attack, anxiety, fear of losing a romantic partner?_
> 
> So if anyone needs to avoid that, please do. If you want, I can try to give you a brief summary so you can continue reading the story. If anyone has an suggestions for the tagging, please let me know. Thank you!

 

==> Karkat: Stay Coherent Enough To Keep Your Moirail Calm While You Enjoy Every Moment Of This

**(Oh. My. Fucking. God. You were done. Excuse yourself as you give an external scream of absolute fucking rage at the voice in your head.)**

You're cheeks are blazing, and you just want to curl up in embarrassment. He continues lapping at your skin, brushing against you with sharp teeth. It takes you a moment before you realize that he's cleaning your genetic slime off of you with his tongue. Your face is just so red at this point that you should give up being a troll. Give up being a troll and just go join your tomato brethren. Build a fucking village for you and your brethren. Make a fucking town center with a mayor and-.

You gasp, and your hips arch up off the horn pile. There was a tongue lapping at your nook. A very,  _very_ cool tongue lapping at your dripping fluids; tracing them down to your waste shoot and then along your thighs. You relax momentarily when the tongue leaves your nook -entering safe territory again- before it trails back up, following your genetic slime as it continues to slowly trickle down your thighs, and he laps at your nook again. Your body squirms, and you curse in your head, utterly flustered and embarrassed. _What the hell was the idiot thinking?!_ If he didn't burn his tongue -because it would be just your fucking luck that your mutated blood was hot enough,  that the differences in temperature between the two of you would cause him to get burnt- then he'd become sick from ingesting genetic slime - _your_   mutated genetic slime- which wasn't supposed to be ingested, especially by copious amounts.

You hear a low growl, and your body immediately tenses up. ~~_(While you are embarrassed and scared for being so helpless, you also love that your personality hasn't been able to ruin this for the both of you, though you wish you had control of your body, like in the case that your moirail went too far or if he needed to be calmed down.)_~~

You moan as that cold tongue wiggles its way between your nether lips. Your moirail starts to suck on your nook lips, pulling them between his lips and running his teeth lightly over the sensitive flesh, soothing them with his tongue. You whine as he releases them and pulls back.

Gamzee swipes his thumb under his mouth, wiping off cherry red fluid, and licks it off his thumb. He rumbles low in his chest as he speaks. "Ain't nothing disgusting 'about your miracle blood, brother. Nothing wrong what as is with your mating slime, neither. " He declares with a note of finality, as if it was fact.

He cups your hip, thumb reaching out to brush across the top of your slit, and he collects more of your genetic slime on his finger. He brings his hand up to his lips and licks your mating fluids off his skin, giving a satisfied hum.

You shudder, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. You want so desperately to protest, but your vocal cords refuse you. You just stay quiet, aloud and mentally, as you bounce from thought to thought. You don't agree with him, though, however much a part of you longs to believe him. You had been born and raised to _know_ your place in the hierarchy, or your lack there of. After all, if you hadn't a clue, how could you protect yourself at all? Even knowing as much as you do -all the training and preventive instruction from your luscus- it was amazing you'd managed to survive for as long as you had. You understood you were just scum to be rid of to other trolls -trolls higher on the hierarchy, and even those merely a "case" above you- and you knew it; have always known it. Nothing would change that, not even your isolation on the meteor with your friends who -most of them, anyway- have come to accept your blood status and continue to treat you no differently.

You highly doubt that even if you could be nurtured on this meteor with your friends and their acceptance for the rest of your life, that you'd be able to completely abandon the mindset of- of always _knowing_ your blood color, and what it meant for normal Alternian troll standards.

The train of thought makes your bulge retract, slowly drawing back into your sheath, if not all the way in. The stress of old worries cloaks over you, clinging to your skin like a fluffy blanket on a sweltering day, and you suddenly feel just so done and tired and _vulnerable_. Fuck. You really, _really_ don't want to have to deal with this right now. You were abruptly not down for flushed shenanigans. You were just so _done_ with this whole fucking situation. You just wanted to-.

 _Damn it_. You just wanted to cuddle with your moirail.

Which you probably couldn't fucking do anymore. Because you were so blinded by getting any action with your bulge that you were willing to spew out anything to get someone -even your own fucking moirail- to touch you.

Even if it meant fucking up your only stable quadrant.

Fuck you. Fuck you and your entire fucking selves and your trashy life.

You can't believe you fucked up your pale quadrant. You just can't fucking-. Oh fuck. Jesus. What the hell is wrong with you? How could you-? Oh fuck. Jesus-.

What if you fucked up your pale quadrant? What if-. Fuck what if Gamzee wasn't your moirail anymore? Oh fucking shit Vantas you ass shitting screw up oh god-.

Anxiety's like a fist squeezing around your blood pusher; the pain in your chest, the feeling of compression around your lungs, of feeling sick and dizzy- and it just hurts too fucking much.

Fuck. _Fuck. **Fuck.**_

God, you really, really wanted him right now. Your mind floats back to earlier, curled up on the horn pile with him, reading a book, him massaging your back and shoulders, and you just wish so desperately for that moment to be back, to do it all over again, to keep your moirallegiance steady and not to lose your own fucking moirail which you actually managed to get and somehow managed to keep for a long fucking time oh shit what was wrong with you oh fuck **_your chest_** -.

A long, heavy weight suddenly settles down on you, pushing you down into the horn pile. You mind whirls, thrown off by the new sensation, and then you're thrown again as the weight lifts off up of you. Stray curls of long unruly hair brush your forehead, and Gamzee's presence surrounds you, hovering about and around you on his knees and forearms. He blows out against your lips, and you blink, and then suck in a deep breath, filling your starved lungs.

You suck in another, and then another, and the relief of pressure from your chest is wonderful, so you keep taking in deep breaths. After a while of just breathing, with Gamzee hanging above you, blocking out the rest of the world, you finally manage to calm down. In fact, you manage to calm down enough to realize that Gamzee was mimicking your breathing, as though he was breathing in and out with your through your little damn panic attack. The thought makes something warm and close to your heart squeeze. His head lowers, and his nose brushes against yours. 

His baggy shirt hangs down off his frame, and you're reminded that despite his strength, he was quite skinny. ~~_(You have the brief pang of concern and the follow up thought of needing to stuff him full of food later, before you push it away.)_~~

 ~~~~His lips brush lightly against yours, and the action makes something hot and quick jump in your nook. The sudden spark of arousal gets your bulge interested, and you can feel it swell where it was retreating into your sheath, but you weren't in the mood any longer.

You really just wanted to -cheesy as it fucking sounded- snuggle with your moirail on the pile. That's it.

Well, you'd also really like to make sure your pale quadrant was still filled. Or, fuck-. With all your fucking line crossing and quadrant blurring you'd managed earlier, you at this point would just be so fucking relieved if you could still call him your moirail. Which would be really fucking nice because that ball of anxiety was rising in your chest again and you really just wanted to curl up with him and relax and not _worry about shit for once in your fucking life_ -.

He presses a kiss against your forehead, and you pull in a stuttering breath. Your lungs inflate, and the pressure rises up off your chest. He presses another kiss to the bridge of your nose, then to the tip, and then to your right cheek, then the left, and one more on your chin. A quiet keen escapes your lips, and when your hearing finally filters back in you realize he's _purring._

_Oh fuck._

Your cheeks flush a light pink, and your eyes slide shut, and you _smile_. It's just a small upturning of your lips, but you still swear that your future self will look back on this past moment and nag about how _fucking_   _sappy_ it was.

And it was.

It was-. It was so-. You suck in another breath, to fill your lungs, but also because of the feeling of fondness and excitement welling in your chest. 

Your moirail was purring for you. _To calm you._

Your moirail. Was purring. _For you_.

And it was just so fucking sweet and cheesy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan for this fic:  
> Sort their quads out. Pile time. Go the fuck to sleep. "End story". Bonus chapter of sweet, sweet love making, and then some passionate-ish? And then all is good in Letting Lose land.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking this story up for an old friend of mine (JANDS, AKA BleedingJoyAndSorrow).  
> I'll try to clean it up and post some more chapters, hopefully. I'm quiet fond of this one, so I hope to dig at it a bit more and build on it.  
> We apologize for the story most likely going to be open ended. Or maybe a cliff hanger? Leave it up to all of you guys' imagination?


End file.
